Lord Lugos and Harry Potter
by Lord Lugos
Summary: A bizzare story, One shot, told in first person, of what could happen if I were suddenly to find myself as Sirius Black.


_**AN: My muse prevented me from working on anything else until I wrote this down. Let me know what you think of this slightly, or perhaps, completely, bizarre story.**_

"**Lord Lugos And Harry Potter"**

I stretched and rolled over, shivering at the cold. I tried to find my quilt when I realised something wasn't right. I bolted up when I felt the hard, cold, stone floor I was sleeping on.

"Where the hell am I?" I thought as I looked around at the small, square room. Or dungeon. "Oh shit." I started to panic.

I looked down at what I was wearing in puzzlement. Dirty, torn, worn...robes? How did I get here? Where was here? The last I remembered was...nothing. Uh oh. I was...I couldn't remember.

I got up and shivered, it was...unnaturally cold. I went over to what was clearly a cell door, and pounded on the bars.

"Guard, guard!" I yelled.

The cold faded a bit as a man wearing...robes?...approached with a slightly startled expression, that quickly faded to a sneer. "What do you want, Black?" he said and I almost jumped.

What the hell? It couldn't be. No fucking way. Thinking quickly as I could, I said, "I need to see Dumbledore."

He peered at me suspiciously. "What for?"

Okay, my seemingly impossible suspicion confirmed. This was probably a dream, but it didn't really feel like it. Thinking quickly as I could again, I responded, "Don't worry about it, just get him here. Er, tell him I would like a Sherbet Lemon."

I hoped that that could be a password of sorts, or, at least would peak Dumbledore's curiosity and get him here to solve this...nightmare? The guard peered at me again, and then left. The cold returned shortly and I realised it had to be dementors, though I didn't appear to be affected that badly. I kept remembering embarrassing things I had done in my...muggle life.

Muggle. I was a muggle. I was an...empathic muggle. From...America. Empathic? Yeah, I learned to block out most of it, after being overwhelmed by crowds. I remember that I could even send out thoughts and emotions, not just sense them. Hmmm. Okay. I began pacing in my little cell, trying to figure out what was going on. I couldn't remember much more than flashes of anything. Was this a dream? I had had lucid dreams before and this was no lucid dream.

I took a nervous breath and rubbed my face with my hands and continued pacing. Name. My name is...Lumos? No, that's a spell. Isn't it? Lugos, yeah, Lugos. That's a name? I remembered. That's a Celtic God of healing, protection, wisdom, abundance, and many arts. A jack-of-all trades of sorts. A pen name that I took for...Harry Potter fanfics? What was my real name? I couldn't remember, but now, it appeared, I was Sirius Black. Harry Potter was real and I was Sirius Black before he escaped in...1992. How long before? And, shit, this was real.

Wait, wait. Was JKR a squib who wrote the story? A true story? Shit this was intense. Or insane. What happened? I could remember the first four books pretty easily, as I had read them countless times. Not the later ones as much, though. Book 5...6...7. Wait, seven? Yes, I read seven. What was in it? Between my own stories and all of the fanfics I read, I couldn't make out the details. One detail though, came to the front of my mind. Joanne's autograph of book seven. Yes. I managed it, to get an autograph with her, and felt a warmness as she handed me back the book. It must have been a spell. A spell to check something about me, because she got a startled look and then asked me to meet her for lunch in her suite. How could I refuse something like that? When I arrived she handed me something that she said was real pumpkin juice to try. It tasted like pumpkin juice, but there was something else in it. I remember I couldn't stay awake. She said something before I passed out. What was it?

"Take care of our son, James. I still love you."

Oh my god. She was Lily. I was...was...am James? Then I remembered something weird that had happened when I was little. Halloween. 1981. A voice appeared in my head, no. Not a voice, a, two of us. I...we...what happened? James Potter was killed. Maybe...think...he, no Lily too, they did something so they wouldn't die. His soul. We...merged? Is that possible?

I looked down at the cruddy, stone floor. I was James Potter, and...a muggle kid in the states. At the same time. I grew up...as...us? Now. Joanne, she...what? She was Lily too, and she found me and...? Aw, bloody hell. I'm Sirius Black too. I can feel it, even if I can't remember much. Mostly I remember, Lugos. That life, in bits and pieces. An American Muggle. What the hell did you do, Joanne?

"Think, Lugos, think," I whispered to myself. I paced and paced. This was...real. I was here. Dumbledore was coming. I was Sirius Black. Wait, wait. An animagus? Could I do it? An empathic muggle in a wizards body? Black dog, paws, and...

I suddenly found myself lower to the ground, and my hands were...paws. I could smell a lot better, and this place smelled nasty. Now that was interesting. Wagging a tail. Now, could I change back? Yes indeed. I found myself standing again, looking down at my disgusting robes, and skinny body.

Woah, skinny body. I wasn't exactly fat as an American muggle, but definitely overweight. I was a little out of shape and did have some weight to lose. I just couldn't get those last thirty pounds off and turn about twenty more into muscle. Now, though, I was skinny, not overly so, especially considering Askaban. Oddly though, I wasn't uncoordinated by it.

I paced again, rubbing my hands through my hair. Greasy hair. Longer than I remember, though not by much. I'm used to it coming down to the middle of my back, not to my elbows. And clean. Merlin, I needed a shower. Wait, Merlin?

Okay, calm down and think. Force away the fear and nervousness. Alright, well this explains my fascination with Harry Potter, as well as the paternal instincts I felt. Shit, Harry. My son, or godson, whatever. Was it too late? No, I was here, now. But what to do? I couldn't tell Dumbledore. A man who I could sense was nearly here. Empathic, yeah. Someone else was with him. Fudge. Shit.

Is this a dream come true for any Potter fanfic author? Or a nightmare come to pass. Okay, time to be a Gryffindor I guess. Gotta save Harry from the Dursleys and Voldemort. Gotta do it like a Slytherin though.

I needed a story. I could use some of what I remember from the books, and make up anything else. Depending on the year. I wondered if Harry was at Hogwart's yet? Hmmm, I thought. I could remember a flash of the wedding. Both from Sirius and James' point of view. Nothing much else from those lives. I'll have to learn magic, if I can convince them to let me out. There were too many things that didn't make sense from the books though. I would have to play it by ear, and hope for the best. And definitely try and send out subtle acceptance and open mindedness to Fudge, or else I would be screwed.

Why does this seem a little familiar? Oh yeah, one of my bloody stories. Sirius knows the future and tries to fix it. What was it called? 'Unveiling The Future'? I'm getting off track. Okay, now. ?!? But now, I'm Sirius. Shit. Gotta play it cool. That's gonna be hard. I can feel, what is it? Rage at Pettigrew for betraying us. Us? Yeah. Calm down, Lugos, er, Black. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall as I heard footsteps echoing in the hall. The cold receded a few minutes before my door was opened. I felt the waves of my own magic, and calmed it down to a trickle, and sent just a hint of the feeling of open mindedness to Fudge.

"What's the meaning of this, Black?" Fudge said forcefully, though he was clearly afraid of the murderer Sirius Black.

He was just like in the books, as was Dumbledore, who radiated power and confidence in person. I wanted to get on my knees and cry 'I'm not worthy' to this man. I held my smirk though, and reinforced my empathic shielding, which seemed to be a lot like Occlumency.

"Quiet," I answered quietly, and I saw Fudge shiver at my tone. "Harry is in trouble, and you're the reason Fudge."

I felt a pressure behind my eyes and pushed against it as my gaze turned to Dumbledore. He was trying to find out what I really knew, and I certainly couldn't let that happen.

"What?" Fudge said nervously while Dumbledore stared at me appraisingly.

"Have you had a vision?" Dumbledore asked.

"Of sorts," I replied carefully.

"Why would you care?" Fudge said, trying to deflect the blame from himself. "You helped kill the Potters."

"Maybe he's had a change of heart, over the years, Minister," Dumbledore suggested, seemingly wanting to help.

"Actually, I haven't. I was a decoy," I said firmly. "Pettigrew was the real secret keeper, as well as the spy we were looking for."

"A likely story, Black," Fudge said.

I uncrossed my arms and took a step toward Fudge, who cowered under my glare and took a step back.

"A true story. I've never supported Voldemort," I said harshly and Fudge flinched at the name, and I chuckled. "Afraid of his name still? I never supported him, while you're in the back pocket of a deatheater. Malfoy bought his way free, and you still listen to him and his money."

"I...I," Fudge stammered and Dumbledore's eyes seemed to twinkle in enjoyment.

"Why are you so sure I'm guilty? Considering I was never questioned at all." Dumbledore frowned at that and glared at Fudge for a moment. My guess that Dumbles wasn't that all-knowing was correct. "Tell you what, Fudge, I can prove it," I snarled and ripped the sleeve off my left arm. "I don't have the Dark Mark. All of his followers have it branded on the left forearm. Check them all. Bella has it, Lucius has it, and Pettigrew has it. He's alive and I know where he's hiding."

I turned my gaze to Dumbledore as Fudge just stared in shock. "Snape has it, and if he'll grow up, he'll verify it. Tell me this, Albus, thinking of who I was and how close I was with James, would I ever do something like this? Or would I let myself be a decoy?"

After several minutes of silence as I calmed down some, Dumbledore said, "We must check into this story, if there is a chance, we must take it."

"But Albus, surely you don't believe this?" Fudge said nervously.

I almost relaxed, as it seemed this was before the falling out between the two wizards, and Fudge still respected Dumbledore. "Look," I said, "It's easy enough to check. Like it should have been done before I was thrown in here without a trial."

They both turned and looked at me at that remark and I continued. "Yes, no trial, and I've only just come to my senses now that I know some things. Dumbledore, that stupid blood protection for Harry is going to fail," I lied. "Voldemort is not dead, but he's more than a spirit, and he can possess people. Let me come with you to confront Pettigrew. I should have done that to begin with, but in my grief and rage, I went off on my own. I realise now, that Harry needs better protection than some wizard hating muggles behind a ward. Muggles who make him sleep in the damn cupboard under the stairs instead of a proper bedroom."

I hoped this would do the trick. At least, it might get Harry away from the Dursleys and the shit they put him through.

"Fudge, the Black family is older, richer, and more respected than the Malfoys," I continued. "At least try to do this, and I'll make more contributions than Malfoy ever did. I know that I'm innocent, so you can blame it on Crouch, and since I was never a death eater, you'll get more respect. What have you got to lose? Help me, for Harry's sake."

That did it. I saw it in his eyes as he thought about it. His greed for money and a desire for power taking over. And his worry over Harry as a small, very tiny, last consideration. Dumbledore just shook his head slightly at how easy I played the Minister. I'm pretty certain he didn't feel the slight compulsion I was sending Fudge.

"Well, I suppose we should at least investigate these allegations, Mr. Black," Fudge said importantly.

"Please let me come with you. Without a wand, I can't really do anything," I said. "I would like to see my insane cousins face too."

"How did you stay sane?" Fudge asked as he motioned for the guards.

"Innocence isn't a happy thought, and I didn't stay that sane. My friends were dead, and I was the one who suggested Pettigrew at the last minute, figuring no one would suspect him."

"None of us did, Sirius," Dumbledore said politely, making me wonder if he was as manipulative as some of the fanfics, including my own, made him out to be.

"Where is Pettigrew, then?" Dumbledore questioned as I was led out.

"He'll run if it gets out," I said nervously. "Honestly, I don't know who to trust after all of this. I want to trust you, need to trust you, but...I'm afraid." My voice started to get a little ragged as I thought what had happened and what might happen, especially with all of the fanfics I read.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said and gently put a hand on my shoulder. "You can trust me. If all of this is true, then you will be free, I promise."

I looked at him and sighed. I trusted him. I had to. "Just like Hagrid in his third year."

"Yes," Dumbledore smiled with a powerful, yet warm, reassurance. "Just focus on what I need to know about Peter. I won't intrude on any other thoughts."

I nodded and brought the thought of Pettigrew changing into a rat. I could actually remember what he looked like, in fact, the memory of him faking his death became clear, so I pushed that to the front of my mind. I still didn't know what any of the Weasleys looked like, so I thought the name, and the color of red hair.

Dumbledore nodded and I felt the slight tickle of his presence leave my mind. I nodded back and could see he understood the gravity of the situation. I sighed as we slowly continued our walk through the dark and dank corridor. I couldn't help but to try and sense a little in my, Sirius', my, wizard body.

"That bitch!" I thought suddenly and reached out to snag the beetle. "Skeeter," I yelled as my hands closed around the insect. Everyone was startled by my movement, and jumped back. "I got Skeeter," I said triumphantly, but my success was short lived as she bit me.

I cried out and threw her to the ground where she immediately transformed back into a human, only to find herself at the end of several wands. I started to tell her off, but the pain in my hand increased quite a bit and I suddenly felt dizzy.

"What the hell?" I said, falling against the wall, shaking my hand. I slid down the wall as nausea began to accompany the dizziness. "Beetles aren't supposed to be poisonous."

"My form is," she said and pulled a phial from her robes. "The antidote, Black."

"I...I don't...trust you," I stuttered out.

Dumbledore waved his wand over my hand and then over the phial, which glowed yellow. "It's safe, Sirius. But you must take it now."

I nodded and he poured it down my throat. Potions are nasty. It tasted like vomit, but it worked. The nausea and dizziness went away almost instantly. My heart had been racing but was calming down now, and my breaths were shaky and deep. I felt overwhelming emotion, all three of me, which, really were just one now, if they were ever three. Anger, for sure, but a deep sadness overshadowing it.

"Don't you get it?" I said sadly to Skeeter. "If this got out, Harry would be hurt, killed, or worse. And killing me would have taken away his last chance for some kind of real parent." I tried to fight back the choking sobs, but the James Potter in me let a few of them escape. "I don't even know how long it's been."

"It's been about eight years, Mr. Black," said a new voice and I looked up into the brown eyes of a bald black man. "Names Shacklebolt, and it's spring of eighty nine. It's gonna be alright," he said and held out his hand.

I grabbed it and he pulled me to my feet. "I hope so," I replied.

"Don't count on it cousin," said a high pitched, maniacal voice from behind me. "When the Dark Lord returns, he'll kill that brat, and you'll never protect him. You should have joined us, but now, he'll kill you too. Or he might let me kill you for him."

"Merlin, Bella," I growled as I turned around. "Can't you just shut the hell up?"

She did. Though it was because of the full body bind that Dumbledore cast on her. We entered her cell and I ripped her sleeve from her decaying robes.

"I don't see any mark, Mr. Black," Fudge said.

"Albus, how about a cleaning charm?" I asked. "One for me, too, if you wouldn't mind."

With a smile, he waved his wand and we both were a lot cleaner, though I still could do with a shower. It seems magic can only do so much, which would explain why any wizard would do anything manually or need money.

I knelt down and held our newly clean left arms together. Mine, pale from the lack of sunlight, and completely free of any marks. Hers, though just as pale, showed a pink outline of a skull with a snake protruding from it's mouth like a tongue.

"See?" I said. "It's pale because he's weak. If he were truly dead, it would be gone completely, because it contains a part of his magic, and let's him summon any follower he wishes. It also can't be forced on someone. You have to be willing to let the magic in. Imperious won't work."

Yeah, I was making a lot of it up as I went, but from the look in Bella's eyes, I knew I was on the money.

Fudge looked repulsed. "That's all well and good, Black. But it only proves he didn't mark you."

"He marks all of his followers, Fudge," I said in a condescending tone. "He's an arrogant bastard. Am I right, Dumbledore?"

"Yes indeed, Sirius," Dumbledore said. "He would want total control, and if you'll remember, Cornelius, during the war, he was shall we say, fairly open with his attitude, thinking himself invincible."

"He was, or is," I said quietly. "He took more steps toward immortality than Flamel. Death is his biggest fear, look at what he calls his followers. Deatheaters. His boggart is probably a grim." I smiled inwardly at the thought of him being afraid of my animagus form.

"Just how do you know so much about this, Black?" Fudge asked accusingly.

"How about I fought against him in the war, had something of a vision, and I've been in here listening to the mutterings of all these deatheaters," I spat back. "Dumbledore knows at least as much, and I would hope a lot more."

"He is correct, Cornelius," Dumbledore said in a tone of finality. "We need to let Sirius rest while plans are made quickly to retrieve Pettigrew from where he's hiding." Fudge simply nodded and I sighed.

I couldn't believe where I was still, and I really couldn't believe how much I managed to accomplish in the last couple of hours. Not officially free yet, I was led out and taken to Hogwarts while the Minister went to set up a meeting with the Wizengamot. Skeeter had no choice but to tag along, so the story wouldn't get out yet. Plus, she would get all of the details of the story of the year.

Dumbledore made a portkey to take us, that is, Skeeter, himself, Shacklebolt and myself, to Hogwarts. The pull behind the navel is accurate, but it really is disorienting. The ground does seem to slam into your feet when it's over, and I don't know how anyone really stays on their feet. I ended up on my arse. Outside the gates of Hogwarts. Oh my.

The magic was unbelievable for someone who grew up as a muggle. There was a presence behind it as well. I could almost see the magic. With everything that had happened, I was exhausted, and Dumbledore and Shacklebolt caught me before I fell.

"Sirius, what's the matter?" Dumbledore asked and I looked at him.

I could actually see blue waves of concern coming off him. "It's just everything that's happened. It's overwhelming." I pushed back a little on the empathy and Dumbledore's blue aura faded.

We walked onto the grounds and had to hold in my amazement. Neither the books and certainly the movies could ever prepare you for being there in person. It was truly magnificent. I sight to behold. With a deep breath, I continued closer to the castle. I frowned in puzzlement as a reassuring hug came from Hogwarts itself. Dumbledore stared at me questioningly. "It's Hogwarts," I said and held my hand up, touching the magic. "I can feel her. She's telling me that it's gonna be okay."

"Since when have you been an empath?" he asked.

"I guess the years in Askaban forced me to learn it. To block out the dementors."

"Fascinating," he said encouragingly and they helped me towards the front door.

On the way there, a man approached. One who I didn't need to guess who it was. Twice as tall and five times as wide is an exaggeration, but he was big. Very big. Probably over eight feet tall I would say. Maybe nine. And he was wide, unlike the record holders in the Guinness book who were usually on the skinny side in relation to their height. A sight to behold, and the gentleness coming off him showed in his eyes. He was a truly, good man.

"Professor Dumbledore?" he questioned and I nodded to him.

"A gross miscarriage of justice, Hagrid," he said. "In all probability, Mr. Black is innocent."

"Hey ya, Hagrid," I said shyly.

He didn't seem to know what to say. "Er, I dunno what to say, 'cept maybe sorry 'bout yer motorbike," he said with a worried expression. "I kinda got mad when I thought you did it."

"S'okay, Hagrid. I would'a done the same thing," I replied and he relaxed and followed us in and to the hospital wing.

Madam Pomfrey just stared for a moment as I settled into a bed, then quickly ran her wand over me, muttering what I imagined were diagnostic spells. "Physical, mental, and magical exhaustion," she eventually said and retrieved several phials of potions.

"He needs to be up and about by the afternoon," Dumbledore said and she gave him a look.

"What time is it, by the way?" I asked.

"It's nine thirty in the morning," Shacklebolt whispered and I nodded my thanks.

"You're pushing it, Albus," she replied and gave me my potions.

While they tasted a lot better than the one from Skeeter, they were still nasty. I started to drift off as Dumbledore began explaining the situation to her. Her, and McGonagall, who walked in just as the wonderful bliss of dreamless sleep came.

I felt consciousness returning, and I suddenly remembered what had happened and what I had to do. "Harry!" I yelled out in panic as I bolted up out of bed and stood on the cold floor.

"Relax, Mr. Black," Pomfrey said. "It's three in the afternoon, and Albus will be back shortly."

I nodded and stared at my feet. "Where'd he go?"

"To talk to the Wizengamot."

"What about Pettigrew?"

"The plan is set, you will accompany him to the unknown location when he gets back."

"So know one knows yet? Good. I guess he'll portkey us all then?" I said and she nodded.

"Let me say that I'm truly sorry for ever thinking you could have done that to James and Lily. You're not one hundred percent, and I've used the best of my skills to get you ready, so you need to take it easy."

"Thanks Madam Pomfrey." I smiled at her and she left to let me get dressed in the fresh robes that were left for me. There was a mirror, and I did a bit of a double take as I looked at myself. I wasn't as skinny as before, the potions having restored most of my muscle tone. I wasn't built like a brick shit house, but was looking pretty good, if I do say so myself. Maybe Keanu Reeves in 'Speed' I would say.

I still needed that shower, but that would have to come later. Poppy conjured me a hair tie, and I pulled my hair back into a ponytail just as Dumbledore returned. He whispered the general plan to me, and then led me out. Shacklebolt and Skeeter were in the hall waiting, along with McGonagall and three others. Introductions were made, and they were Scrimgeour, Bones and Arthur Weasley. Scrimgeour does look like an old lion and Arthur, for sure. Thinning red hair, on the skinny side, with a very pleasant disposition. Madam Bones just seemed a pleasantly average witch, but loyal to the truth.

We followed Dumbledore in silence to the grounds and outside the main gate. He pulled out an old umbrella for us to grab hold of. "Now, as I said, do not be alarmed at our destination," he said sternly and they nodded.

I gritted my teeth as he tapped the umbrella with his wand and we were pulled away. I got lucky and bent my knees just at the right time, managing to stay on my feet when we arrived at the Burrow.

What a sight that was. It most definitely looked like magic was holding it up, and yet, it looked completely sturdy at the same time. You could trust it wouldn't collapse while you were inside it.

Arthur was the only one who gasped at the sight, realising that his family was harboring a deatheater. He maintained his composure though, and followed the others placing five, large crystals around the property and then activating it with a touch of his wand.

Dumbledore then waved his wand and they glowed gold. "Remember to stay away from the perimeter, as the ward will stun you instantly," he said. "Anti apparition is set, Arthur. I suggest you enter first and ask your son Percy to retrieve Scabbers."

"Scabbers? Oh my," Arthur said and headed quickly for the door.

We gathered outside and waited, listening through the open window.

"Arthur? What are you doing home?" came a woman's voice that I assume could only be Molly.

"Oh, just need to check on something, dear. Percy? Would you go get Scabbers? I need to check something," Arthur replied calmly, betraying no emotions.

"Alright, dad," said a child's curious voice.

After a moment, the door opened and Arthur let us into the sitting room. It seemed all of the Weasley children were there, and Molly just stared at us, especially at me.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley," I said quietly and she looked at her husband.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"I'll tell you later dear, you have to remain calm, no matter what happens," he whispered and we all heard the footsteps of a returning Percy.

Percy came down the steps and held up the familiar rat. "Here dad, what's going on?"

The rat looked around at everyone nervously and then saw me, squeaked, or shrieked might be more accurate, and bit Percy, jumping to the floor to run. McGonagall was quick though, and soon Pettigrew was laying on the floor, looking pitifully up at everyone. I was surprised that Molly didn't actually faint, though she looked like she wanted to.

I stared at him, amazingly calm with the bitterness, sadness, and anger I was feeling. Of course I spoke the typical words of every fanfic, my choked voice betraying all of the emotion I was trying to control. "How could you, Peter?"

"The Dark Lord is..." he started sadly but couldn't finish. He knew there was no denying it.

I was starting to shake, though. The overwhelming sadness and rage trying to take over. "Harry is alone because of you," I whispered with venom. "I was screwed for eight years because of you. My best friend is...James was more than a brother to me, and you..."

The rage was unbearable, as I brought my hand up and pointed a finger at his left arm. I thought two spells then, a cutting curse and a summoning charm. The curse cut cleanly through the robes, though it went too deep and into his arm, but I didn't care, let him bleed to death. I let his sleeve just fly by as the summoning charm brought it to me.

He screamed as the curse went to the bone. "There," I growled, "the dark mark. You fucking traitorous deatheater."

I backed up to the wall, the emotions overpowering me, and the wandless magic draining me. I slid down the wall to the floor, and put my arms on my knees, and rested my head there with a sigh and a sob.

"Here, drink this," Molly said and I looked up at her. "It'll help."

I nodded and drank it, and felt it's calming effects instantly. I also felt sleepy, and just rested my head on my knees again. I was only half asleep though, and I could make out what was going on, but couldn't, or didn't want to respond to anything.

I listened half heartedly as Dumbledore told everyone the short version of events, and told Skeeter she could write her story the moment he returned with my official release papers.

"What about Harry?" Madam Bones asked and I felt Dumbledore's eyes on me. "Lily never wanted him to live with his aunt and uncle. They think of wizards the way you-know-who thinks of muggles."

"He will be placed in his godfather's care," Dumbledore replied. "I am of the opinion now, that the dark arts wards Sirius' father placed on Black Manor are stronger than the blood protection of his aunt."

I could feel the manipulation behind Dumbledore's words. He was thinking of the greater good, that Harry would survive his relatives and be stronger for it, but, now he couldn't do that. I almost wanted to scream at him for trying that with Harry, but I was too tired, and really couldn't raise my head.

"And what of the wandless magic Black just displayed?" Scrimgeour said sternly. "He's dangerous, no matter what else."

"He was hurting, and he's worried about his godson," Molly said in my defense.

"Yes indeed," Dumbledore added. "His emotional turmoil right now would allow a degree of controlled accidental magic like that. He is no danger to anyone now. Unless they're a deatheater. Perhaps it would do well to keep Severus away from him."

Suddenly I felt myself being levitated over to the sofa, where I was covered with a blanket by Mrs. Weasley.

"Pettigrew's wound is just good enough to travel," Shacklebolt spat. "He shouldn't die anyway."

"Good," Dumbledore said calmly. "We should be gone then. Arthur, you'll be alright?"

"Mr. Black will be fine," he replied solemnly.

Soon everything was silent and I knew everyone but the Weasleys had left. And Skeeter. I could hear the scratching of her quill as she began working on her article. It was actually calming, and helped me to drift completely off to sleep.

I slowly started to wake up, and held back a shudder as I remembered. Not everything, just my recent situation. And my first name. Turns out my name was James as well. Was I about to start an adventure? Was I already on one? I didn't know. All I knew was I needed to help Harry. I opened my eyes and looked over to see two red headed children staring at me.

"Ron and Ginny, right?" I asked and they nodded.

"You're really gonna take care of the boy-who-lived?" Ron asked.

"Er, I don't think he'll like that name, Ron," I said. "When he finds out. He just wants to be a regular kid, without people staring at him. He was only one when it happened remember."

Ron nodded and said, "He doesn't really know?" His muggle relatives didn't tell him anything, I mean?"

"Not a thing. They just pick on him like a Malfoy would do a muggle or muggleborn. I don't really know how to tell him about magic and wizards."

"He wants to be normal?" Ginny spoke up. "I mean, he is normal, just a regular kid?"

"Yeah," I replied, hoping to kill the fame crush now. "I mean, he's as normal as he can get, he just doesn't know it, really. He..." I broke off as my voice went dry. "He thinks he's a...his aunt and uncle tell him he's too much trouble, that he's not normal. A...a freak."

"Oh," they both said together.

"Don't pity him, though," I said, "he wouldn't want that either."

Ron looked up at that, understanding completely. "If you need any help telling him, you can count on me and Ginny."

"Thanks," I said and noticed Mr and Mrs. Weasley smiling from the kitchen doorway.

A knock at the door sounded and Mrs. Weasley let a grinning Dumbledore in. He walked over and handed me a large envelope, with the Ministry seal on it. Inside I found my release papers, a complete exoneration of my record, and custody papers for Harry James Potter. Holy shit, I was really a dad now. I just stared at the papers in mild shock.

"It'll be fine Sirius," Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "Would you like me to accompany you to Olivanders for a new wand?"

I nodded absently, only barely registering what he said. "What if Harry doesn't like me?" I whispered, nearly starting to hyperventilate. "What if he's pissed because we didn't do anything before now?"

"Don't worry, Mr. Black," Ron said and put a hand on my shoulder.

"Thanks Ron," I said and stood up. "Take care of your family, alright?" He grinned as we bid goodbye and left.

"Okay, er, I'm not really up to apparating myself," I said. I almost said I didn't know how.

Dumbledore nodded and took my hand. He turned and it felt just like the books described. Half a second of being forced through a rubber tube, and you were there, breathing deeply. I looked around at my new surroundings, and couldn't keep from gasping at the wonder of it all. Diagon Alley. No way in hell could I ever go back to my muggle life, Voldemort or not. The movies pale compared to the books, just as the books pale, to actually being there, experiencing it.

One thing for sure, as an American, I needed a shit load of maps to find my way around. I had no idea where Grimmauld Place was, much less number 4, Privet Drive, Surrey. We hurried to Olivanders and it was just unbelievable. The wand on the cushion in the window, just like in the book, but inside...was indescribable.

"Ah, Mr. Black. I assumed you would be here soon," he said and stared at me unnervingly with those unblinking eyes.

"Yep, thats me," I said and avoided his gaze. "I hope we can hurry, I need to by a watch, a few maps as my memory isn't what it was, and hopefully a motorbike. Then I need to deal with my mother's house elf before heading to Surrey."

"Yes, indeed," he said. "It should be no problem as it's only a few minutes past six."

His tape measure did its thing on me while he grabbed a few stacks of wands to try. It was very weird, the tape measure going about by itself, then it stopped and he started handing me wands.

"A difficult customer, eh?" he commented after about two dozen wands and I started getting worried the muggle side of me might interfere. "I wonder."

Uh oh, I thought and shook my head. Not like in my story. "That's not the brother wand, is it?" I asked when he brought out another wand from the back of the store.

"Why, yes indeed, Mr. Black. How did you know?" he said, actually amazed for the first time, I believe.

"That...that's really supposed to be destined for Harry," I said shakily and slowly reached out my hand to take it.

It practically leapt into my hand and I felt a warmness flow through me. I waved it through the air, and got a multitude of colored sparks shooting out the end. The feeling settled, and the wand felt very comfortable in my hand.

"You've changed destiny, though, Mr. Black," he said seriously. "You know the wand chooses the wizard, and it's fitting in a way. He who-must-not-be-named wishes to kill young Mr. Potter, and you wish to protect him."

I guess that made sense and nodded as I felt a tickling in the back of my mind. "Harry,"I said and looked up, toward the south I think.

"What is it, Sirius?" Dumbledore asked.

"Harry is sad," I said sadly and looked at the floor.

"Well, I believe the Easter Holiday ends today and he will be returning to school tomorrow," Dumbledore replied with a bit of a twinkle in those damnable blue eyes. "I must say it is amazing that you would sense that from so far away."

"Whatever," I replied. "He's...shit, they got him a haircut in an effort to tame his father's hair, and, Dursley didn't like it still. Still thought it wasn't normal enough for him, to be the little cookie cutter clone of what he thinks is proper and average. He took shears and really made it worse. Harry's crying himself to sleep. I know his magic will grow it back to what it was by morning, but still. Why the hell can't they let him be? It's not like his hair is as magnificent as yours, mine, or Hagrid's."

Dumbledore chuckled a bit at that last part and patted me on the back. "It'll be alright."

"Yeah, I hope so. Though the joke really didn't take much of the sting out of how he's treated," I replied with a sigh and waved the wand, thinking 'avis' absentmindedly and a few birds flew out of my wand, making me jump. "Oops."

They chuckled and I realised that probably most of the spells in the books were real, but I still needed to learn more. It was also pretty nice to know that I could do nonverbal spells without effort.

Outside, we started to part ways, when I asked, "Albus, do I have any stuff left? I know they snapped my old wand, but any other belongings? It's been a while."

"Oddly, I don't know," he responded with a frown.

"What I was hoping was a wedding picture with me in it to show Harry."

"I believe Minerva has one," he replied cheerfully. "I'll have her owl a copy to you as soon as I get back to Hogwarts."

"Thanks," I said and shook his hand. "I'm gonna try a get to Privet Drive before Harry goes to school tomorrow. You'll be there?"

"Yes I shall. Can't have you doing anything too awful to the Dursleys, now can I?" He smiled and disappeared with a pop.

I shoved my wand in a pocket and headed off to Gringotts. I controlled my urge to shiver at the sight of the goblin who bowed to me as I entered. I went straight to a teller, and had to get a new key and check on my account. The ritual to get a key required three drops of my blood and a fifteen minute incantation to prove I was Sirius Black. The goblin looked at me strangely, well, I think strangely, as it's kind of hard to tell, when I asked for my worth to be calculated into the American Dollar. I've no clue about British Pounds, much less Galleons. I think my heart stopped when he told me the amount of the Black family fortune. Roughly $230,000,000.00, about four times that of the Malfoys. It took me about ten minutes to overcome the shock. I mean, it's only money, right? It's not even all cash, er, gold. A good portion of it is investments and property. Plus the property at Grimmauld Place. And it's grown since Sirius' er, my mother died in 1985.

Just like in a lot of fanfics, I was given a muggle and wizard debit card, as well as two checkbooks, along with a Gringotts phone number for authorizations. Going to the vault and carrying gold coins would have been fun, and make for a good story like in canon, but highly impractical. I wondered what else JKR might have left out.

I needed to hurry, but decided to hit the bookstore, and see if they had any maps. They did, and I opted for the most expensive one. It could show the area I was in, as well as where I wanted to go. Both muggle and magical, including which was which. The Leaky Cauldron would show up in red, with the surrounding area in blue. I also told them to send two sets of first year's Hogwarts books to Grimmauld Place, I was gonna have to start somewhere.

I hurried out and found a small motorbike dealership nearby. Just my luck though, it was already closed. Screw this, I told myself. I wondered if I could apparate inside the building and get the keys. Yeah, dishonest I know, but I wanted to pick Harry up with the bike. I saw a stack of business cards on the desk, and tried the 'wingardium leviosa' spell, and it worked. I levitated it over and under the door before heading over to a payphone. I got the guys home phone number from the book and gave him a call. He was reluctant to come now, so I sent out a double dose of my reverse empathic Jedi mind trick and he changed his mind.

He didn't even comment on the robes I forgot I was wearing, he seemed a little out of it. I ended up with a good deal on the bike though, and with a call to Gringotts, he approved the check that I wrote, and I was the proud owner of a new bike. A sweet, low riding, Harley chopper.

It was starting to get a little late, but I just made it to a department store to get some regular clothes. I put the robe and extra pair of jeans and t-shirt in the saddlebags and headed toward Grimmauld Place. A quick check of the map, and I realised that I wasn't that far away, and I started getting nervous. Then I started getting angry. That little fucker helped to kill Sirius. To kill me. To hurt Harry.

I pulled up in front of the house and didn't need to look at the address. I felt the magic pulling, recognizing, obeying. I may have been disowned, but I was still the last heir of the Noble House of Black. I looked around at the neighborhood. A little run down, and I doubted there was a cute female living next door like in my fic. Maybe Rachel Weisz was really available I wondered. Or maybe I could try for JKR herself, but somehow, even if she was Lily, she wasn't really my type. I'd have to figure my dating prospects out later.

I threw open the door with a bang, strolling in like I owned the place, which, of course, I did. Then I felt my anger seething and slammed the door shut, reveling in the magic of Black surrounding me.

"Kreacher! Get your ass here, now!" I bellowed.

The little shit appeared with a pop, uttering true obscenities at me, prompting the portrait of Mother to do the same. I felt the darkness and madness of the Black family line pushing, trying to gain control, so I let a little of it out.

"Shut up, you inbred fucking bitch!" I yelled at my mother, and she actually closed her mouth as Kreacher stared in disbelief.

I grabbed Kreacher by the throat, and squeezed. Hard enough to restrict breathing and cause pain, but not enough to where he couldn't hear what I said.

"You will obey me, you little fuck, you will respect me, you will no longer believe or support my mothers pureblood bullshit. You will not nor consider helping any deatheaters or supporters of that fucking half-blood Tom Marvolo Riddle, named for his witch hating muggle father, who now goes by the name Voldemort. You will love muggles and muggleborns, and never say a word against them because of their parentage. You got that?"

I threw the elf against the wall as my accidental magic took hold of me. I wanted him to feel pain. Not insanity inducing pain like the cruciatus, but a deeper pain. So bad that you would never get numb to it and lose your mind. I felt the magic pulsing in my fingertips, and then it burst forth as an electrical charge, striking the elf. I was reminded of Starwars, but it wasn't blue like in Return of the Jedi. It was green. Killing curse green. I felt Kreacher's pain, and as an empath I should have stopped, but I blocked that part and enjoyed hurting one who had caused, and would have cause much more, suffering.

I stopped after about ten minutes, and the little elf could barely stand. When he did, he staggered over to me and started kissing my shoes.

"I is sorry master. I will loves muggles and mud...muggleborns. I won't says anything bad about them ever again. I is sorry master," he begged and pleaded.

I picked him up and stared forcefully into his eyes, reaching out with my empathy. I sensed no deception, but he could be faking, so I pressed even further. All I found was respectfulness at being treated so harshly, along with fear of being treated that way again. And repentance for doing bad things. I pushed and he started crying and holding his head. Good. I stopped pushing.

"Good, Kreacher. Now get rid of Mother's fucking portrait. And I mean destroy the thing when I say that. Then take the heads of your ancestors and make yourself a small, comfortable, place in the attic, and keep them there. Then clean this place up, and kill any little infestations you mind find, unless they're boggarts. Those I want put in a room for dark arts practise. I would like all of that done before I return with the defeater of the half-blood Dark Lord, my godson. We may come back tomorrow, but I don't know. I may wait a few days, so get it done efficiently, and completely, or I'll do worse than kill you, and disintegrate your head so it will never join your fathers. Right now, I have to run an errand. We have floo powder?"

The little elf nodded as I set him down and took me to the fireplace, retrieving a container of the stuff. It looked like flour with little sparkles in it. I watched in merriment as he destroyed the shocked and protesting portrait before I threw a pinch into the fireplace and stepped in. It was a little smoky, but there wasn't much ash in the green fire, I don't know what Harry had a problem with in the book. I clearly said, "St. Mungos" and the spinning started. That was a little disconcerting, but I kept my elbows tucked in, and amazingly enough, simply stepped out of the grate when the spinning stopped abruptly. That's when the adrenaline stopped and the magical exhaustion started. I started to collapse but a healer, or nurse, whatever grabbed me and took me to a room.

"What's the problem, Mr.?" they asked.

"Smith," I said, knowing my innocence hadn't made the Prophet yet. "Er, probably magical exhaustion. I just need a few pick me up potions."

I could have probably trusted Kreacher for the potions, but I wasn't ready to take the chance. The man quickly cast what appeared to be a few diagnostic spells and nodded. He left for a moment and returned with several potions.

"Take these two now," he said, handing me a green one and a red one, "Then this one in the morning." He held out another green one.

I nodded and downed the two, and coughed a little at the potency.

"How did you do this to yourself?" he asked. "You're drained pretty bad."

"Er, what would you say if I said I was punishing a bad house elf I inherited that used to support you-know-who?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "Wouldn't clothes be better in that case?"

"A dark supporting free house elf on the loose? I don't think so," I said with a chuckle and he laughed a little nervously. "So, how much do I owe for the great treatment and potions? And do you have anything to make sure I'm rested by tomorrow morning, I'm gonna pick up my son, and I don't want to be under the weather in the least."

He nodded and left for a moment, and returned with a new potion, a darker shade of green, and said, "Twenty galleons for the lot. Just take this one and the other in the morning and you'll be fine, Mr. Smith."

I pulled out the wizard debit card as we approached the front desk and he gasped when he saw the name on it. "Sorry," I said and pulled out my papers proving my freedom. "I imagine it should be in the Prophet tomorrow morning. So if you could not mention it until then at least? Please?"

He nodded as he closed his gaping mouth and ran the charge through. He suddenly looked at me with a startled expression. "You don't have a son. You're going to get the boy-who-lived, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah. He's my godson, after all. And confidentially, his muggle relatives are almost as bad as you-know-who's followers regarding wizards."

He looked a little shocked and disbelieving. "Well I hope it works out then."

I nodded and flooed back home. Home? Perhaps. I took a deep breath and sighed. The place was still a little stuffy, but Kreacher had started to make dent in the cleaning already. I was about ready to head out when three owls arrived. Two of them had my book order, and the other, a brown tawny, I suspected was from Hogwarts. I relieved their burdens and they took flight again.

I opened the envelope from the tawny, and it was from Dumbledore. There was a picture of me, James, and Lily at the wedding. They were waving and smiling and throwing rice. I almost cried. It was me. Me and my best friend. The muggle I used to be was fading fast as I learned and experienced wizard life. There was also a letter from Dumbledore. He was sending two Hogwarts house elves to help, as he remembered some of my old stories about the Black house elf. To help gain my trust after what I had been through, he was releasing the elves to me completely.

Well, I didn't really know what that entailed, it could be a manipulative trick. He may suspect my memory loss, or that I was even a muggle, I don't know. So I bellowed for Kreacher and asked him forcefully what was involved in transferring house elves to another master. I sensed both glee and fear at the question. I was glad when I felt the respect side win and turn to sadness as he told me. Then I told him I was acquiring two more house elves to help him and I felt a strong wave of relief. Good. Very good. Here's where I would laugh maniacally, but I held it in.

Soon the house elves popped in, and we performed the ritual as Kreacher said. I was so relieved to know that Dumbledore wasn't like the ones I had read about in the fanfics. I was astonished to learn that one of the elves was named Pip, just like my story. The other was a female, Pip's wife, named Dilly. I told them how I wanted things done and to keep an eye on Kreacher, as I still didn't trust him completely. They understood and bowed low, before disappearing with a small pop.

I went outside then and breathed deeply the clean, cool, night, spring air. I pushed away the nervousness that tried to overcome me at the thought of being a parent to Harry, and climbed on my bike. I pulled out the map to find my way to Surrey, and saw a hotel about a mile from Privet Drive. I glanced at my new watch that I remembered to buy when I got my clothes. It was nearly midnight.

It took nearly an hour to get there, and I hoped there would be a vacancy. There was, and I got the room for the night. I asked the night clerk if he knew what time the local school started, and he said nine am, with a bit of a puzzled look at me. I told him I was visiting my godson and hoped to see him before school.

In my room, the first thing I did was take a quick shower followed by a long, soaking bath. I borrowed some scissors and cut the tangles off my hair before scrubbing it good. I did not want to resemble Snape in any way, especially with greasy hair.

It was nearly two am before I climbed into bed. I nearly fell asleep in the bath, so I made sure to set the alarm on my watch as well as request a wake up call for seven. The next thing I know, the phone is ringing and it's seven a. m. I didn't even hear my watch.

I drank the two potions and immediately felt refreshed. I got dressed in the second pair of jeans and t-shirt, and headed out. I grabbed a quick breakfast in the hotel restaurant, and rode over to the infamous Number 4, Privet Drive. I parked in front of the house and the nervousness threatened to make me lose my breakfast. I waited for Dumbledore to arrive and Harry to leave for school. Then I had an idea.

"Pip?" I said quietly, and heard a disembodied voice answer shortly.

"Yes Master Black? I stays invisible as muggles are about."

"Are you able to tell what size clothes Harry wears?" I asked quietly, fiddling with the saddlebags so the neighbors wouldn't suspect.

"Yes sir. Pip knows. Does Master want Pip to get proper clothes for Master Harry?"

"Right in one, Pip." I smiled. "Just a pair of Jeans, T-shirt, and underwear. The more expensive, popular kind if you could. Oh, and some expensive trainers as well, and fresh socks."

"Right away, sir," he said, and a few minutes later, "Everything is in the saddlebags, sir. I had to expands them magically, but I knows you wanted that anyway. Is there anything else, sir?"

"No, Pip. That's perfect." I smiled again. "Thanks."

I pulled the bag of clothes and the shoe box out of the saddlebag and waited for Dumbledore to arrive. The waiting had the unfortunate effect of allowing my nervousness to return full force.

"I hope he likes me," I muttered to myself shakily with a sigh.

"I'm sure he will," Dumbledore said behind me, making me jump.

I dropped the bag and grabbed my chest. "Don't do that, you scared the shit out of me."

Dumbledore chuckled and I looked at him. He was dressed like a hippie, both his hair and beard tied in a ponytail. He was wearing bell bottom jeans and and a tie dyed t-shirt.

"Nice look," I chuckled and we headed to the door.

"What did you do to your hair you little freak? How?" came a distant voice of Vernon Dursley through the window.

"I told ya he would grow it back in his sleep," I said and Dumbledore nodded.

The sound of a very hard slap was followed quickly be a muffled scream and crying. I scowled at Dumbledore for half a second before sprinting toward the house. The door was locked so I dropped the bag and box and pulled out my wand. I muttered, "Alohomora," and the lock clicked. I pushed open the door and ran in, making my way quickly to the dining room. My wand was steady and pointing between Dursleys eyes. He knew what it was because he gulped.

"Ah fuck it," I said and put my wand away, then slugged Dursley with all I had in me.

Dumbledore didn't expect that, and I'm sure Harry and the Dursleys didn't either. They all looked at me strangely as I held my hand in pain.

"Er, Dumbles, could you fix this maybe?" I asked and held out my quickly swelling hand. "Be glad I didn't actually curse him," I said when he gave me a look.

He waved his wand over my hand and the swelling seemed to go down a bit, but the pain almost completely went away. "Thanks," I said. "But don't heal Dursley, he deserved it for hitting my godson."

Harry looked at me in disbelief, seemingly ignoring the magic while he held his face with a red hand print on it, silent tears still rolling down. He was almost nine, but he was truly small for his age, and looked a little malnourished for sure. All of it was made worse by Dudley's cast offs.

"Okay, Harry," I said trying to make this quick while everyone was still shocked. "I'm your godfather. Your dad, James Potter, was my best friend in the world. We were closer than brothers. Special circumstances surrounded your parents death, and I'm only just now able to come for you, that is if you want to live with me."

I pulled out the wedding photo and showed it to him. It wasn't moving, that would be explained later. But it did show us smiling, with our hands up in a waving gesture. Of course there was no doubt it was his parents, as he looked just like James. Yeah, yeah, except for the eyes.

Harry looked at me, then the photo, and then the Dursleys. I got nervous again and looked at Dumbledore, and I think he could see the approaching disappointment in my eyes.

Petunia finally recovered enough to move, and strolled over to Harry and stared at the photo with a scowl. "Yeah, my sister," she said disgustingly. "And her freaky husband." She then spat on the photo and I took a step forward but was held back by Dumbledore.

I watched as Harry used his overly long sleeve to carefully wipe the photo clean. He looked up at me. "You want me to...to...live with you? But I...I'm a freak."

"No you're not Harry. Don't believe anything these shit heads have told you," I said and retrieved the bag and box from the doorway. "I got these for you, so you can leave Dudley's filth behind. If you want."

Harry looked inside the bag and gasped. "N...new clothes? For me?"

"They're yours even if you want to stay with the Dursleys," I said in an almost defeated voice. "I'll understand if you want to stay with them. You don't know me at all. Just be sure to let me know if they mistreat you again."

I turned and started to leave when I was attacked from behind. Harry was hugging me for all he was worth, the bag of clothes all but forgotten on the floor. I hugged him back and glanced at Dumbledore.

"I think you have your answer, Sirius," he said, his eyes twinkling madly behind his half moon specs.

I nodded and held my godson, my son, feeling the love and need from him. I felt the same. This is truly the power Voldemort will never know.

**The End**

**Or...the beginning, for me and Harry.**

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** Please review, thanks.  
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